


Moonlight Tears

by Moriartsey (arainbowpenguin)



Series: Tiny Cecilos one-shots [4]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: I don't quite know what to think about poor Cece in this one, Like maybe he has multiple personalities, M/M, different personalities for different places, fractured, he's just kinda, i guess, idk - Freeform, just not an actual disorder, nonhuman!Cecil, sad!Cecil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arainbowpenguin/pseuds/Moriartsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(I am paid to talk all day, he had written. It takes the fun out of it, really.)<br/>Cecil is quiet. Almost unreasonably quiet. And Carlos wonders why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight Tears

**Author's Note:**

> Mmmm it's really short but I like it. It'd been sitting unfinished on my iPod for a long time and I just plopped some stuff on the end and wrapped it up, so if it seems a tad disjointed that's why.  
> Poor Cecil. I always make him cry.  
> He's just such a vulnerable and emotionally raw guy and I love characters like that aaaaaaa

Cecil never tries to be quiet. But it happens anyways.  
He comes in the front door, drops his bag on the counter, and heads straight back to the bedroom. Sometimes there is a pit stop in the bathroom, but not often. Clothes are discarded, (glasses returned carefully to their case. Cecil is nothing if not careful.) and he clambers into bed as naked as the day he was born and falls asleep in a good five minutes or so. Ten if there is something particularly troubling. It's not the quietest routine, but for some probably simple reason, he is quiet. The way he acts and speaks is loud, but the way he takes up space is quiet. It was not the noise that unsettled Carlos, but the lack of it.  
Cecil hardly ever talked at home. He would smile, make eye contact, and generally display emotions, but he wouldn't talk unless asked a very direct and detailed question.  
(I am paid to talk all day, he had written. It takes the fun out of it, really.)   
So every day, Carlos would wake up and watch his thin lover for a while, curled up in the fetal position, third eye wide open and watching. He slept in that position every night, unless Carlos had trapped him against his side the night before. Lying on his left side, legs tucked up to his chest. His third eye would stay open, presumably watching out for dangers as he napped. He looked so fragile and vulnerable, a far cry from the nonchalant, confident voice that everyone heard on the radio. So Carlos would kiss him, and he would stir. Finally, his eyes would fully open, and his amethyst would meet Carlos' hazel, and he would smile.  
Carlos doubted Cecil had any idea of what he knew.  
So he made it his mission to catch the newscaster off-guard. Whether it was a pause in the conversation at dinner, distraction broken, or a peek around the corner at him while he was watching television, Cecil was a different person while he was alone. He was smaller somehow. Some protective thing had come off of him and he was raw, often hugging his shoulders, and always silent.  
Finally Carlos has had enough.  
He creeps up on Cecil while he is open. Puts a hand on his shoulder and the other man startles, caught. He opens his mouth to say something but Carlos stops him and presses their foreheads together, silencing the other. They both know exactly the message the other is trying to convey, and Cecil begins crying, tears like mercury sliding down his face.  
"I'm sorry."  
His voice is husky and miserable.  
"Do not be. Don't ever be."  
Carlos kisses the man he loves tenderly on the lips, tasting sweetness and emotion and difference, and he loves it. So he says so.  
"I love you because you are Cecil. My Cecil. Not the radio Cecil. Not at home Cecil. My Cecil. And my Cecil can be whoever he wants and I will always love him, no matter who he is."  
And Cecil smiles, moonlight tears still rolling down his face and onto his lips, painting them starry.


End file.
